Toxic
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: He'd caught Wally in a moment of weakness. *Contains slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I expect this to be _maybe_ ten chapters long. Slash. Don't like, don't read. I don't write much of it, so don't expect anything overly fluffy either. This is, like, the only pairing I ship and I find it near impossible to write x.x But anyways, here's my new little ficlet: "Toxic".**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
><strong>**Warning: I will only write this once. This is RATED T. Keep this in mind while reading. I won't warn you exactly what 'cause that's spoiling.**

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><p><em>Toxic<em>

Getting Roy was the easy part. It wasn't an attack to get the archer to love him. It was the fact that Wally just found Roy in a moment of weakness.

"Do you want to talk?" It was innocent. Yeah, he'd wanted to help more than anything else, and yeah, he'd loved Roy for a long time now, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon, for anything to be so simple.

Roy hunched over his beer, eyes averted and angry. Between being rejected as a sidekick yet again and Red Arrow being found out as Speedy by the damn reporters, he was about ready to go driving at night in one of Ollie's darkest cars with the headlights off.

"You can talk to me, Roy." Wally reached out and clasped a hand over his friend's. The touch felt so good; he hoped Roy wouldn't notice. "I'm here for you." It was taking all of his strength not to try and hug the archer right there and try and kiss him and make all the hurt go away. It was all he wanted to do, just to make things better for his friend...

"I know that." The words were spat, venomous, toxic. Yet he needed someone to reach out to. His hand was wrapped tightly around his glass, threatening to crush it. His eyes snapped shut in anger, remembering how Ollie had been so stupid to let him go the first time, now completely disowning him...

The glass shattered in his grasp, tiny crystal shards firing off in all directions, most of them stabbing into Roy's palm.

A furious gasp of pain found his lips and then a snarl of rage. He was about to hit the redhead beside him for doing this, for instigating his anger, until he saw that the speedster had zipped off and zipped right back with a first aid kit in hand. Before Roy could even raise a hand to smack the Hell out of him, Wally was carefully picking glass pieces out of his friend's upturned hand, his own fingers being pricked and stabbed but never stopping.

And Roy knew he'd found someone who could look past the terrible flaws and all the problems he'd sunk into. He was quiet and let the pain and rage subside while the younger ginger patched him up like a little girl sewing up her favorite doll. His bluish eyes followed Wally's fingers as they picked glass out of his skin and as he smeared some antiseptic on all the still-bleeding cuts and as he began to put red and yellow bandaids on everything.

Wally zipped off again, Roy wasn't sure where, and returned to his seat at the bar by Roy's side. When he folded his hands together, Roy could see that his fingers were still bleeding in places. "I'm glad I know where most bars keep their first aid kits or else you might've been in some serious trouble." The fifteen-year-old looked up to the archer with pitiful eyes. "I guess it's a good thing I learn strange stuff on the internet."

Honestly, Roy didn't care about anything other than the fact that somebody cared. Somebody loved him. Somebody wanted to help him. Somebody was there for him. That was all that mattered. That was all.

Wally didn't have time to react as Roy grabbed the younger boy's head and mashed their mouths together. After a brief moment of confusion, he didn't care either. There were nights where he would lie in bed and dream about this glorious moment. Sure, part of him was hoping for a sunset instead of a bar setting, but still, it was Roy, he was there, and they were kissing, oh, it was so good sogood...

Melting into the moment, Wally allowed himself to lean in closer to Roy, allowed their foreheads to touch, his eyes to shut. The only thing that would've made the kiss sweeter would've been the lack of alcohol on the archer's breath.

Roy broke it off, needing air and another drink. He tapped on the table twice and the bartender began to pour another beer into another glass. He took the glass once it was full and took a long swig, swallowing it hard to feel the tang and burn. Disgusting but numbing. He just wanted the numbing.

Wally was almost uncomfortable with the whole thing. A dream come true... and then Roy ordered another beer. He fidgeted in his seat, feeling the spark of an ache in his fingers where cuts had been cut and scrapes had been scraped.

Now Roy just needed some shots. He looked to Wally and saw the kid's face in a slight grimace. Yeah, he could use a shot. "Two shots of tequila." He tapped on the bar twice again and watched as the bartender began to pull out the tiny glasses and pulled the cap off another glass bottle.

The younger redhead's brow furrowed. One second angry, the next a passive drunk. Maybe the dreams he'd come to wish for were going to be wasted after all...

And Roy placed one of the two glasses in front of him with a calm, cocky smile. "Drink up." He took his own glass and tossed it back, loving the burning pain all too much. The numb would come soon enough.

The bartender's voice spoke up, asking, "Is he even twenty-"

"He's fine." The redhead's words were strong and demanding. His own fake ID was in his back pocket, tucked safe inside his wallet. He gave Wally an elbow, eyes glowing with an unreadable emotion. "Drink up."

The bartender would've called the police, but he'd seen the man shatter the glass. He didn't want that to happen to his whole skull.

Wally shivered and grimaced some more. This was not what he'd thought would happen after his first kiss with his secret crush. "Roy-"

"Come on." The archer's face hardened. "Just do it."

They'd just kissed. It was special moment. Wally was finally getting to live out his fantasy, being able to freely love Roy... And if taking a shot of tequila at fifteen would cement it-

Wally picked up the glass and tossed it back. It hurt and burned running down his throat, but he knew it was all for a good cause.

Roy leaned over and kissed him again. A moment of weakness. He'd caught Wally in a moment of weakness.

He ordered two more shots.

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><p><strong>AN: Review. Thanks.**

**~Sky**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I apologize for the delay on this chapter. I would've gotten it up yesterday but there was a problem at home and… yeah… Anyways, this has been done since… Thursday. So here ya go.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
><strong>**Warning: See the rating? Yeah, for a reason. Don't forget it.**

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><p><em>Toxic<em>

It was a slow poison, their love, if it could even be called that.

Wally had stumbled across Roy's apartment on accident one day. He'd just gotten back from a trip to Gotham and had decided to swing by Star City to see if Roy was up to anything on the Red Arrow front when he caught the archer walking home with a grocery bag slung over one shoulder and decked out in his civvies. Wally knew which side of town Oliver Queen lived on, and it wasn't this side. This was the same side that Red Arrow usually had to work on.

He'd quietly followed Roy up to his rooms and stood behind him while he opened the door and began to let himself in. That was when the speedster spoke up, his hands shoved in her pockets. "Hey."

Roy jumped and turned, bag hitting the ground and fist paused midair an inch away from Wally's face. The younger redhead never flinched. "You could've gotten killed." His husky, angry voice was fierce as his bluish eyes raged. He picked up his bag again and headed inside, leaving the door open for his young friend to follow. "Don't do that, Wally."

"I won't." There was something about this new freedom with Roy that gave the speedster enough confidence to look past certain things. He wasn't afraid of Roy hurting him now like he had been before, back when there were barriers. He was perfectly fine and almost ninety-nine percent sure that running into Roy at seventy miles an hour wouldn't get him nearly strangled. That was the freedom he had now. He didn't have to worry about what the friendship border was; at this stage, it was nonexistent. They'd kissed, that was a promise.

"You will, we both know it." He unloaded the bag and put a loaf of bread, some miscellaneous boxes, a few oranges, and a fresh bottle of whiskey on the counter of his small kitchenette. He shot the kid a glare. "So I mean it. No more. I could've seriously hurt you." And worry glinted in his gaze, strong and pained. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have Wally there to understand him, to listen to him, to care for him.

With a surge of superspeed, Wally was standing beside Roy in a heartbeat, green eyes wide and adoring as he watched the archer unpack his things from the plastic grocery bag. His gaze caught on the firm muscles of his biceps and the way he seemed to move so perfectly, the way his eyes flickered just right. "You'd never hurt me." He leaned in a little closer so their shoulders touched. His head tilted closer to Roy's. "I know you wouldn't."

Swallowing, Roy turned slightly and pressed his lips to the younger boy's forehead. "There are some things I can't help." He left the groceries out on the counter, figuring he could take care of it later. Right now, he needed some hope and a little bit of love. "Come on." He began to pull a pack out of his pocket while moving towards the couch, his other hand in the younger ginger's hair, pulling him along ever so gently, almost lovingly.

Wally beat Roy to the couch. His feet were so much faster, which would always cause friction between the two; it was the way they were. He had already set the tv on an old comedy station and was listening to the announcer yammer on about unimportant facts about this day in history. When his jade orbs looked up to Roy, who was taking a particularly long time to sit down, he was a bit shocked to find a cigarette between Roy's lips. "You smoke?" questioned the kid, surprise worming its way into his words.

Roy sucked in a deep breath and pulled away the tobacco. "I keep it away from the League. The less they know about my lifestyle, the better." He let out a quick snort of disgust before blowing out the smoke like a dragon. "If Ollie got ahold of this, my bow would be confiscated before the day was up." His blue eyes were watching the window, which was open despite the cold of autumn settling in. The smoke wafted out gently, puffs of cloud-like gray taking to the wind before dissipating.

Knowing how to translate that, Wally looked back to the tv, taking in all this information. Roy drank and smoked. He was a hero, not a convict, not a conman, he was just Roy. This was how he was. Wally swallowed hard and decided to accept it. He loved Roy. He could get past it all. These problems weren't serious enough. None of this mattered. They loved each other, that was what counted.

"You want one?"

Fear touched Wally's mind as he looked up to find a cigarette being held out to him. He knew a lighter would be next. "No, no, I'm good." He'd cemented it with a drink. That was all he'd needed. Wally didn't need to smoke to keep Roy with him. It wasn't necessary.

Roy shrugged this off simply. He took another puff of his own and looked back out the window to the cars that passed by on the street below. "You'd be amazed how good it feels. Makes everything easier on the mind." He waited a few more minutes, gaze usually on the window, until the whole thing was drained of tobacco and just the butt was left. He stuck the smoking, still hot end in an ashtray on the coffee table before moving onto the couch, close to Wally, and taking the speedster in his arms and holding him close.

It took Wally a second to get past the smoke that clung to the archer's skin. He had to breathe it in and adapt before he could fully commit to Roy. It only took a moment to get past the stench before he gave into the thoughts that it was Roy's hands that were on him and Roy's lips that were against his and Roy's broad arms wrapped around him. He just had to remember that this was Roy, the man he was in love with. Roy. Roy.

He decided that he liked the smell of tobacco on the archer's breath.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm amazed this got as many faves and such as it did… In the meantime, leave a review?**

**~Sky**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This may be my OTP. Of course, I ship basically any pairing with Artemis in it, but this has a magnetic pull to it… Ah, I don't really know. But here's another chapter. I love the reviews I'm getting. Thanks for reading, guys.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all.**

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><p><em>Toxic<em>

"You need something?" It didn't bother Roy that Wally was asleep in his apartment when he got back from his mission. It just made him question things. What gave the kid the right to go into his private property and just sleep there whenever he wanted? He dropped his heavy bag of cans on the counter, a gift he'd been given by the nice elderly lady two apartments down for feeding her cats last week. The sound was loud enough to wake the dead, and Wally had fallen off the couch in a heartbeat. Something inside of Roy prickled at the sound of the speedster falling. "You okay?" he called over, pausing from unloading the cans that he'd probably dump at a food drive in a week anyways.

There was a "Yeah!" with a forced happiness to it, and the younger ginger was up on his feet while fighting to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. One hand with a reddish tinge to it rubbed at a tired eye. "I'm good. You good?"

The first thing Harper took in was the fact that Wally's fist was covered in dried blood. Then when the kid's arm fell back to his side, Roy could see the black ring around his right eye. A pang of guilt hit the archer, the first of that emotion he'd felt in a while. Then he could see a few bruises around Wally's neck and a bluish mark near the kid's wrist in the distinct shape of a hand. He was torn between responding with "You look like Hell" or "Whoever did this to you", but he decided on the simplest: "What happened to you?"

There was a flicker of fear across jade eyes. Then he remembered that the barrier was gone, the iron curtain dropped; they were together, something more than friends. Then he swallowed hard and looked away from the vigilante. "My dad... He hits me sometimes... I got away, don't worry." He was watching the anger boiling up in Roy's face, flushing his cheeks a vicious red like blood on a battlefield. "I only hid here because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." He had considered Gotham, but Alfred and Bruce would've asked too many questions. Roy was cut off and quiet; the archer would never tell anyone what was going on. He had his own secrets to keep, and Wally was sure Roy would keep his boyfriend's secrets just the same.

Through gritted teeth came Roy's fierce threat. "I'll kill him." He turned towards the freezer and jerked the door open, nearly dislocating his shoulder with the suddenness and fierceness of the movement. He pulled out a few icepacks and carried them to the battered and bruised kid without hesitating. Now he was glad he kept so many on hand for his own sore muscles and such. "No one'll lay a finger on you once I'm done with his sorry ass." Roy placed a large icepack on Wally's eye after shoving him onto the couch a bit roughly and snatched the speedster's hand up to hold it in place. Another went on a cut across Wally's cheek. It would take away the redness so maybe it wouldn't be so noticeable come morning...

"Roy, don't." His voice was a desperate plea, a bit slurred only by his split lip. He could pass it off as battle wounds to the team and to his mom, but Barry would know. Barry would figure it out. The bruises on his wrists and neck looked distinctly like they were done by human hands. It was too obvious. "Let it go. I can take care of myself."

"Like Hell you can. You got the shit beat out of you by your own father, West. I won't let it happen again." He wasn't sure when he'd gotten this protective, but he knew it wasn't natural. The only time he'd been like this before was with Dick and that was because he'd had a rough time losing his parents and that he needed a friend, something Roy had excelled at. Of course, that was nearly four years ago… "Your dad is going to his grave when I'm done with him." The words were a snarling growl.

"Roy."

The archer paused, about ready to reach for his bow and arrow under floorboards and behind closet panels, recognizing that tone. Strong. Determined. Roy looked over his shoulder to the kid who held icepacks to his face and to the quickly blackening bruises that dotted his skin like the freckles on his face.

"Just don't."

On swift feet, Roy moved back to Wally and held the ice where it belonged, letting the younger ginger sink into the dilapidated couch, his tired body melting into the cushions. Roy stood over him, holding the ice. His voice broke the tense silence after a few moments "I know what can help." He again moved Wally's limp hand to hold the ice before getting up and going to the cabinets. After searching for a moment, most of the shelves empty, he pulled out his whiskey and a pair of plastic red cups. He poured a bit into each before moving back to the speedster who looked about ready to curl up and go to sleep again.

The younger took the plastic cup and looked in. A mix of disgust and reluctance flooded his features, and he glanced to Roy who was already trying to get a nice buzz going. "Roy..." The disappointment was evident in his words, but he was so tired of fighting things. His hands were bloody from hitting a wall to keep from hitting his father. The bruises around his neck still hurt like Hell. The ice was now stinging his skin to add to the assortment of aches and pains.

"It'll make it all stop hurting," Roy promised, only watching Wally out of the corner of his eye while his head faced the tv. "Just drink a little bit, nothing to worry about. You'll forget all about it." Part of him wished he had some heroin on hand to help the kid, but he'd sold the last of his stash the night before to get a few more arrows; alcohol would do for now. "Then you can stay here for the night," he said, and when Wally was about to protest, he added on, "It won't be a problem."

Reluctant, afraid, and aching, Wally moved a little closer to Roy and closed his eyes. He took a quick drink, feeling that fire. The smell of smoke clung to the air, to the room, to Roy, but he could ignore it now because he'd adapted. He took another sip. And some more. And some more. Until it was drained and he was asleep against the archer, eyes drooped shut with exhaustion.

Roy would have to track down some of his dealers and get something to help the kid, something that would numb the poor kid's ache. He'd help Wally however he could.

The young redhead only gave a pained whimper of protest when the well-muscled vigilante gingerly picked him up and carried him to the queen-sized bed in the other room. Roy held the boy close all night, smelling the alcohol on his breath and the smoky smell that was starting to stick to his skin.

He held onto Wally all night, the poison setting in.

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Someone wanted to see other characters' reactions. Quick rundown since explaining in the story is unnecessary. Everyone knows about Wally, no one knows he's with Roy. Robin _will_ show up, definitely, but he is _not_ going to in any sort of love triangle. Others are debatable. And someone else asked if the rating will go up: No. I ship, but I'm not going that far. This is the most (and only) slash I've ever written, and I'm not gonna push my limits.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Sorry for long A/N.**  
><strong>Warning: Um… The usual warning? Alcohol and tobacco use. RATED T.<strong>

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

It was never just the quiet moments Wally longed for anymore. There was once a day where he would fantasize about a sunset and a beach and the perfect kiss with Roy, all that cliché stuff that he would dream up out of his innocent head.

That innocence was dead.

Now it was all hot, heavy, drunk, and smoky.

And he didn't care.

A drink or two for Wally and three or four cigarettes for Roy, enough to make him feel a little bit sick. Then he'd take a beer out of the fridge, crack it open, drink a little, wait for Wally to wrap up his first cup of liquor and things would get beautiful.

Wally was numb enough from the liquor that he was never aware of how close Roy was until the archer was practically on top of him, and the speedster loved every second of it. He'd let the cup he'd held his whiskey in drop to the floor with a slight clatter, the last few drops dribbling out. Wally would need a second to get his bearings before he could let the tension and inhibitions completely slide away.

Roy would be close, his smoky breath hot on Wally's face, hot on his lips as he hung over the speedster, faces only an inch away from each other. "I told you it feels good."

The numbness was enough. He was young. His metabolism was high, perfect to keep away a hangover in the morning. He didn't hold his liquor well, but good enough to be semi-aware of everything around him. "And you were right." One hand reached up and traced a little circle on the archer's cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"No more bruises?" He was only asking to make sure. If he found anymore, he wasn't afraid to take care of the heart of the issue. Arrows could fix many, many problems.

"No." Wally knew his answer would draw Roy in closer. He already felt one of the archer's hands at his thigh while the other held him up so he could hover over the speedster without crushing him. "I'm being careful."

A shiver ran down his spine, and he felt the first feathery brush of Roy's lips against his own. An electric spark shot through his body like fire, like gunshot.

Then it was hot. There was the archer's warm, smoky breath on his face, his alcohol-tainted tongue in the speedster's mouth. It was so sickly sweet. The freckled boy felt a squeeze at his thigh, and Wally reached up, his hands balling up in Roy's red shirt and pulling him closer so their chests were pressed so close that they could feel each other's racing heartbeats.

Roy paused for half a second only to take a breath before diving back in; Wally never had a problem, that was the power of a runner's lungs. Between mouthfuls of each other and swallowing down oxygen, Roy managed to ask, "Is this what you wanted?" The tobacco smell hit Wally hard with his words.

The speedster felt his elder's mouth mash harder against his own, passion flowing like a river as the sparks danced on their lips. Wally tasted nicotine on Roy's lips and booze in the deepest caverns of his mouth. And he wasn't exactly sure how to answer. He kept kissing back while the heat of the moment and some form of an answer battled to keep his attention through the fogginess of the whiskey that he could still taste burning in his throat.

Roy pressed down a little harder on him, nails gripping the younger's thigh while his lips desperately begged for more, more, moremoremore...

A slight whimper came from the freckled kid as he felt the pain in his leg but he didn't care. All he knew was that it was Roy, that this was Roy all over him, that Roy was getting desperate, that Roy loved him, that it was Roy. Wally only wanted Roy. All of him.

But in his dreams of having Roy, he never thought there'd be an ounce of alcohol in his system, not a drop of booze in his blood. He expected adrenaline and love and these hot and heavy moments. This was what he wanted. But he had never wanted the liquor still burning like bile in his throat or the taste of a tobacco on Roy's lips.

"Yes." And his fists, still in Roy's shirt, pulled the archer down on top of him with all his strength, the older boy's weight coming down on the speedster. Their bodies were closer, hearts racing together, adrenaline running, tongues dancing. Wally had to take a second to catch his breath, just a quick gasp of air while Roy was sucking it down like he was taking a long draw off a cigarette. Fresh air in his lungs, the child added, "This is exactly what I wanted."

With a cocky, confident smile, Roy's eyes glimmered darkly before he pressed himself back down on Wally, their mouths mashing together once again, tongues tied up, fighting for dominance.

Roy won.

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><p><strong>AN: Short, but I needed this to keep developing things. Reviews make me update faster.**

**~Sky**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ah, this weighed heavily on me until I finally took a moment and got it down. I spent most of last night on it, but oooohhh man I cannot stop writing this story. Okay. Imma stop talking now.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't even ask.  
><strong>**Warning: RATED T. Keep it in mind.**

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

The bed groaned and creaked. Once again, Wally was beneath Roy as the archer kept the upper hand while their lips met and their bodies pressed close, chemistry like electricity, jolts of emotion jumping between the two conductors.

"Roy..." He was moaning out his lover's name as a protest. He knew that if they got much farther, clothes would be coming off. Wally swallowed hard as Roy backed off, hurt and anger blazing in his eyes. He still felt the burning taste in his mouth and the bleary edges on the world from his second cup. The speedster knew where he wanted the line to be drawn. He was only fifteen; he would drink, but he wasn't ready for anything more than these hot and heavy sessions in the apartment. "You need to-" He gasped in a quick breath while watching Roy pant above him. "-you need to slow down, okay? Please."

The tendons in Roy's neck tensed, pulling taut. Hot breath flared out of his nostrils. Tinges of rage and impatience lingered in his blue-green orbs. His chest continued to heave, panting to keep oxygen in his lungs. "I thought you always liked things fast, Flashboy."

Hurt seared through Wally's mind. He wasn't sure if he physically cringed or not, but he knew he had mentally. Roy never called him that, not even friendly teasing. It was an Artemis thing to do, the bitch. His eyes snapped shut, and he waited a second. "Please, Roy. Just slow down." He opened his eyes again, pleading and quiet." Now his voice was a faint whisper as fear rippled down his spine. "Please."

Roy shivered. His brow furrowed; another huff of hot air escaped his lips. His decision was made. He leaned in again, determined to get their lips to fit together just right. Maybe if he showed Wally, maybe if he trailed his neck with kisses, maybe-

"Roy, come on!" It took almost all of Wally's strength to even get the archer to budge a few inches. He had to focus hard and get his legs between Roy's body and his own to get more leverage, to get more muscle between them. "I'm serious!" He pushed upward the best he could (while trying not to hurt the elder redhead) and Roy was sprawled out on the lower half of the bed in a heartbeat.

There was a long moment where Roy was sitting up, staring at the top of the bed where Wally sat, pinned up against a wall like a corner animal. He'd been forced to strike. Now he had curled himself up against that same wall, eyes wide with shock and terror at the same time. He _trusted_ Roy. He _loved_ Roy. He _wanted _Roy.

He stared back, fury blazing in those eyes that had grown darker with a possessive need of wanting something more. He swallowed hard, fighting back his anger, blaming all of this need on the booze and his lack of a cigarette in the last two hours. "I need a smoke."

That was the last thing Wally expected to come out of the archer's mouth. He only watched in a stoned silence as the man got off the bed and moved towards the bedroom door, heading directly for the kitchen a few feet away; Wally could see Roy reach for his pack and pull out a cigarette and slip it between his lips before ripping open a drawer to search for a lighter.

He took a moment and touched his hair, touched his face, felt for any wounds, an automatic response to trauma. Wally knew this feeling all too well, he just thought he knew where he was safe and where he wasn't. He didn't feel any fresh bruises on his face and figured Roy hadn't hurt him. It was because Roy _hadn't _hurt him. It was all still fuzzy to a certain extent, but that was wearing off with the shock and as his metabolism devoured the alcohol like it was sugar. He'd remember it all crystal clear soon enough, he figured.

There was the soft _click! _of the lighter in the other room, and Wally watched as a tiny flame flickered out of the end of a black lighter he'd pulled out of a cabinet where he kept a basket of the damn things. Wally watched as Roy focused intently on the lighting of the cigarette. As soon as it was lit and the end was smoldering the same color as the archer's hair, Roy moved out of view and into the living area where they'd left the tv running when Roy had decided the couch wouldn't work because it wasn't big enough for the two of them. The soft sounds of a local news channel filtered in. Stocks and celebrity rumors were the background music of his fears. A simple television to listen to in a moment of so much pain, or at least what little he could hear over the roaring of blood in his ears.

Yet there were amends to be made and he couldn't stop himself from getting up. He _needed _to cement this again. The tequila was a starting point, the whiskey to continue on. Now Roy wanted more, something his partner wasn't quite ready to give.

Before he was completely aware of his actions, he was moving into the kitchen on silent feet and snatching his own cigarette out of the half-gone pack. Wally groped clumsily for the lighter while his shaking fingers barely managed to stick the paper between his lips.

Roy watched the window, unaware, barely alive and in the real world.

The lighter clicked on, and a shiver raced through him. He watched the conical flame focus the heat from mere sparks, and then he moved it to the end of the cigarette. He waited 'til it was alight and then put the lighter back down where Roy's left it. Then he padded quietly to where Roy was.

The buzzing noise of the television's droning words were drowned out by the sheer thought of Roy not taking him back in this one moment. Wally stood beside his lover and sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening to him. He breathed in the tobacco, the disgusting smoke that nearly choked him the first time, the way the heat seemed to burn his mouth and the tang of nicotine tainted his tongue. He coughed hard for a few moments while fighting to recompose himself.

Roy gave the kid a quick slap on the back, eyes still dark but less angry, more tired and bored. He waited until Wally was breathing regularly again before taking a long drag of his own cigarette and sucking in the warm smoke. He looked to Wally and blew it all out in the boy's freckled face with a half-smile on and hope scrawled on his features.

Wally felt the forgiveness even though the words were never said. He drank in the smell, tasted it in the air, and ensured it like he had for weeks now. The tobacco on Roy's lips had made the speedster adapt to something new, as had the liquor and the sudden moments of unadulterated lust. He'd grown used to it, just as he had his father's beatings.

He took another drag, tasting it for real this time. A cigarette in his mouth was more then just cement to pile onto everything else: this was a promise.

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><p><strong>AN: There we go. Ohhh, yes. I miss doing make-out scenes. This is just a good excuse to write some, and I love it. So review? Thanks for reading.**

**~Sky**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I fell asleep writing this last night. I don't know how, but I did 'cause I woke up with my KF/RA playlist running and my glasses on. Not to mention my iTouch was nearly dead x.x So yeah.**

**But I have to ask: where'd you guys all go? One review on the last chapter compared to the six or seven for all the others? :\ Did I do something wrong? 'cause that means I need constructive criticism, not flat-out no reviews…**

**Disclaimer: Nope.  
><strong>**Warning: RATED T.**

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

"You smell like smoke." Dick was used to the scent in the city and on patrol, but not in the Batcave. He was fixing his dark hoodie when Wally had scampered his way on in, hiding from Barry for... It took the raven-haired boy a second to realize that he didn't even know what Wally was doing here. He almost asked but thought better of it.

"I do?" His voice got high-pitched, and he winced at the sound. All he remembered what smoking with Roy before they curled up in front of the tv for a scary movie, which was turned off halfway through because Roy got bored with it. And then Roy had fallen asleep, and Wally had wormed his way out of there. He cleared his throat and made a mental note to keep from letting his voice do that again. "I didn't even notice."

"And it's not even bonfire smoke. That stuff smells ridiculously good for being smoke." Dick was honestly amazed with how he knew this. Of course, fires weren't exactly uncommon in Gotham. Alfred had just fixed his cape last week from a scorch-mark that a burning building had delivered; that burning building had been courtesy of the Penguin. "No, you're like tobacco smoke, dude."

Wally was uncomfortably silent, weighing his options. Run now, hope Dick wouldn't mention it, and get back to Roy before he woke up with a hangover. Or he could confess, get the guilt off his chest, be innocent again, less sneaking around, more being Wally. Then there was his third choice: keep the bird quiet about it.

There was never a moment, in Dick's memory, at least, where Kid Flash had ever been so completely, deafeningly _silent_. It was almost painful to hear the quiet that was emanating off of him, the way he wasn't moving, wasn't speaking, only breathing-

Dick spun on his heels, sunglasses going a little crooked on their perch. "Wally, I swear-"

"You don't have to do anything for me. I just came because..." Why had he come again? The reason had slipped his mind. Loneliness? Guilt? Shame? Comfort? He needed something, he just wasn't sure what. Maybe his best friend could help him out of the corner he'd gotten himself into. In some part of his mind, he knew he'd dug himself a hole and now needed someone to throw down a ladder to get him out of it. "I... don't see you enough."

They weren't best friends for nothing. It was the way Wally's hand was curled into a fist. It was the way he was putting all his weight on one foot. It was the way his chin was down instead of up and confident. It was his breathing, slightly hitched. It was his eyes, dark and red where they should've been white. Dick knew. He was no fool. His azure gaze narrowed darkly, disapprovingly. "You've been smoking."

"Listen-"

"No, _you_ listen." He hated how rough his voice sounded, how rude the words came out, fierce and attacking. "I'm supposed to be meeting with Zatanna in, like, five minutes. I don't have time to deal with you, for one. For two, I won't deal with you if you're doing that sort of stuff." Dick's glare was getting angrier. "We're heroes, Wally. It's part of who we are. We don't do drugs. Better than that, we don't smoke or drink _underage_." Something of a sneer was rising on his features. "I won't tell anyone because I'm your friend, but clean it up and clean it up fast or else you'll get caught and I _won't _cover for you."

His head tilted up slightly, jade orbs finally catching the brutal glare Dick was throwing his way, vicious and harsh, unrelenting. "Rob-"

"Clean it up, Wally." He snagged his phone and snatched his utility belt, rolling up his sleeve and wrapping the belt around his arm before securing it. "The League won't put up with it. You know that."

"And you'll let me get in trouble?" So this was what friendship was coming down to. League against a bond broken only this once by a little smoke clinging to his freckled skin.

"Only if you get caught. Otherwise-" He rubbed his hands together as if brushing off the problem. "-you were never here, you never said anything, and I know nothing." His gaze met Wally's for a brief moment of sadness, longing, back to when his innocent mind knew nothing but a speedster who would eat the last cookie and belch at the most inappropriate moment. "I'm going to meet Zee, you're going to stop whatever's going on." Dick turned and headed on his way, the zeta announcing his departure followed by a flash of bluish white light that filled the Batcave.

There was a moment of silence, Wally alone in the Batcave. Surely Alfred was hanging around upstairs and Wally could snag some cookies, but if Dick noticed the smoke, who knew if Alfred would notice. The butler was very perceptive about some things. Wally wasn't about to dig this hole any deeper; he'd already lost the one person he thought he could count on.

There was a buzzing noise coming from his back pocket followed up closely with some rap song that Barry had set as a ringtone for no apparent reason other than to be annoying. Wally looked around the dark space before pacing towards the zeta, knowing he had to get back to Star City before-

"Where the HELL are you?" Roy's words were loud, and Wally had to pull the phone away from his ear, Roy's rant becoming just a buzzing in his ear as he swallowed hard and sucked up the verbal beating he knew he was about to take. He continued to move towards the zeta while picking up strings of words like "not supposed to" and "can't believe you" and "stay here next time" that were yelled loud enough to not just be a murmuring buzz that Wally could faintly hear.

When Roy finally shut up and Wally pressed the phone back to his ear, he heard, "Wally? Shit, are you there?" There was a rustling sound in the background. "I swear, if you're in trouble-"

"I'm just over in Gotham." The zeta overhead began to call out his name and number. "I'll be there in a sec, okay? Don't flip."

Voice dark and tinged with anger, Roy said, "Then don't leave me again." And then the line was cut dead just as the white flash of the teleporter was ready for Wally to step through. The speedster quietly stuck his phone in his pocket, sighed heavily, and stepped through. He knew he was in for some trouble.

The day ended with two more cigarettes and a half a bottle of whiskey drained, Wally passed out on Roy's couch while the archer watched some movie about cowboys.

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Long overdue. I almost wrote another chapter as a quick accompaniment to this, but I wanted to see your comments and reviews on this one first before I jumped into another one. I already see and end to this, it's all on how much I want to shove into the middle of it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

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><p><em>Toxic<em>

The television buzzed quietly with static while the two sat on the couch, barely speaking, only breathing. Roy had a pair of beers set out on the table, one for himself, one for Wally, and a cigarette was settled between his lips, the curling gray smoke twisting and twirling into the air before swirling out the window, carried by the whispering Star City wind.

"What movie are we watching again?" asked the speedster as some guy shot another guy.

"No clue." He reached for his beer where it sat on a coaster as if a ring on the table were illegal in his house. "I just know one of these guys is dying in the end." His bluish green eyes followed the men through their fight scene in a New York alley, one man ending up with a knife jabbed into his spleen while the other ran, only to get hit by a car moments later.

"Spoiler alert, sheesh." Wally reached past Roy for the cigarettes. As he leaned past the archer, he felt one of Roy's calloused hands in his hair. His fingers closed around the pack, and he drew one out slowly and deliberately before offering the small white package out to Roy, who declined and reached for his beer again to drain the last of the bottle.

"Hey, can you run out and get more beer?" Roy shook the bottle slightly, the last few drops splashing around before he drained it for good. "I think this was the last one."

"Don't you have that vodka from-"

"We killed that off last week."

"Damn."

"You can say that again."

"Damn."

Roy laughed for the first time Wally had heard in a while. "I didn't mean literally, Kid Stupid!"

It still stung. But less. He'd become accustomed to Roy throwing stuff out like that. It was more of a Robin thing with the playful insults, but something about the way the archer said it made the whole thing sound so much more serious and... meaningful. Painful, really. "Either way," Wally said as he got up to stretch a bit, "I can't go out to get the booze." His jade gaze watched the tv as it showed the stabbed man in a coma and the hit-and-run victim in surgery; he was just a bloody mess on a table. "Not old enough."

"Here." Roy leaned forward and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, fishing out his wallet and then digging around in the leather holder for a card. When he found it, he held it out to the younger ginger, who took it reluctantly. "I had this made last week. A couple guys owed me a favor."

In his hand, West held a fake ID. He looked it over, saw his age, saw how real it looked, checked over everything else for accuracy, and then looked at his picture, which was a little aged.

"Ignore the picture. Just tell 'em you had some work done. No one really cares after a while as long as you're paying." Roy sank into the couch and sucked in the smoke from his cigarette, the tobacco still hot when it touched his tongue. "There're a couple of twenties on the counter, so just run out and grab however much you can carry."

Reluctantly, he moved towards the counter and found the bill wedged under a black ceramic ashtray. Wally quietly drank in the smoky air and began to smooth out the bill, trying to delay the inevitable. He didn't want to say anything because Roy had done so much for him. The archer spent his money, his time, his efforts all to help out the kid who loved him more than anything else in the world. The green-eyed boy glanced to his older counterpart. "Are you sure? What if they don't-"

A slight tinge of annoyance caught on Harper's voice as he barked out, "Just go get the damn beer, Wally."

He really didn't want to do it. His face would be on cameras. Superspeed couldn't erase video. He bit his lower lip, still flattening out the bill. If the League caught him, he'd lose his position on the team, he'd be torn away from Roy, who could also get in serious trouble... "Are you sure you can't just-"

"Dammit, Wally, just go!" He'd turned quickly, azure eyes glaring fiercely at the freckled fifteen-year-old. Something of a snarl lay on his features, raw and feral. "You're faster than me, and it's not like you're good for much else." Near the end, he'd turned again to face the tv where the movie played on; the hit-and-run victim was dead. His fingers groped for the pack of cigarettes while his gaze followed actors on screen and flitted around slightly, searching for the lighter he knew had to be nearby.

Dagger. Through the heart. Shattered. Angry. Upset. Useless. He was so useless. The worst part was that he knew it. He always knew how useless he was, and Roy was the only one to say it aloud, how worthless Wally was. He knew. All along. But no one else would say it.

In five minutes, he was back with two twenty-four packs, curled up against Roy's chest, crying, eyes a bleary red. He clung to the archer's shirt, voice whimpering out "I'm sorry" every few seconds. He didn't know what else to do. He only knew that he wanted to please, a dog obeying his master. The speedster had his face buried in Roy's chest while the vigilante downed a bottle of beer in silence.

His only offer to the boy: a pat on the back, a hand through the hair, and a gentle "It's okay, Wally. It's okay." Because Roy had the kid's undivided loyalty, all of his attention and love.

Wally only had an alcoholic smoker that was convinced this relationship, this need, was love.

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><p><strong>AN: Review? I hate making Wally look weak, but it just felt appropriate…**

**~Sky**

**P.S. New chapter will be up ASAP.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I love all of your reviews. Every one of them. You guys always say so much and say exactly what I like to hear. And just a special note, I love how DemonUntilDeath said I "get away with weak Wally" and I just think it's funny. It's like escaping Arkham XD**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own.**

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><p><em>Toxic<em>

Wally breathed in Roy, every inch of him, the smoke on his lips, the alcohol on his breath. It was all such familiar territory. Even the inner caverns of his mouth were something Kid Flash knew everything about; the same could be said about Roy's six-pack under his shirt. The speedster had adapted to his archer, both the good and the bad, the legal and illegal.

One of Roy's hands pinned the young ginger's arm to the wall while the other began to tug at the smaller boy's shirt while he was pinned against the wall. Harper had to lean down a bit to get their lips meeting and their tongues tangled, but he couldn't always linger over the boy and be the upper hand at everything. Still, he was stronger, more powerful. It was hard to resist taking control. He was so much more experienced with roaming a body and getting what he wanted. Letting Wally lead was like letting a mute head a speech team: no clue what was going on or how to even begin.

Despite everything Roy put him through, the minimal verbal abuse, the overly lusty sessions, the drinking and smoking, Wally stayed. He was the puppy that kept on getting kicked but would always return to its master for attention and acceptance. And Roy never failed to deliver.

Their lips pressed tightly together, the only sounds made being the rustling of fabric as Roy made a smooth, subtle attempt to pull away at Wally's shirt and the sound of pitiful, wanting moans that managed to escape from both boys as they clung to each other as if for dear life.

Roy had to break away for air for just a moment before diving back in, his tongue finding West's so that he could keep the boy distracted and maybe, finally, get his damned shirt off-

He wasn't nearly as strong as the archer, but West pushed Roy away, their mouths parting. "Stop it." His green eyes were serious and dark, his voice severe. "Hands off the shirt." Wally kept a firm hand between them, ready to draw the line when it came to physical affection. Roy was already eighteen, and if drinking and smoking weren't bad enough, sex with a minor would draw the line and Harper could be put in prison. He was only doing it to protect his lover even though he knew how badly the archer wanted something more.

A grimace of pain and anger smeared his handsome face for a moment before he reluctantly resigned, settling back in to keep the fifteen-year-old against the wall and keep his lips moving, minus the words. Roy let go of his shirt, but it didn't stop the archer's hand from moving up beneath the fabric to run along the speedster's toned chest and warm body. The heat alone made Harper shiver with lust.

Too engrossed with their kiss to pay much attention, Wally reached his hands up into the elder's hair and tried to suppress how much he wanted Roy. All along, this was his dream, peace, quiet, love, passion. Something more than friendship and he'd certainly gotten-

"Ow, Roy, stop." The words were a mere gasp of pain, the boy immediately turning his head away from the archer as the hurt sizzled into his skin from where Harper's hands had touched fresh wounds that had just gotten stitches that morning. "That hurts."

And Roy pulled his hand away, out from under the kid's shirt, and up to the boy's freckled face. "What did you do? Stitches, Wally. That's serious."

He should've been more careful, he knew. He should've kept Roy from getting so close in the first place. "Just some battle wounds-"

"You're out of commission because you twisted your ankle last week fighting Mirror Master with Barry, and the League wants to make sure it healed up right. You're due back on duty in two days." His blue eyes narrowed; he knew. "I'm not an idiot, Wally. If you think I'm some kind of moron that'll fall for that shit you're feeding me-"

"I'm fine, Roy." He had to get his mind off of it, onto something else. Love. That was where they wanted to be. Love. Some kind of happy place where scars were invisible and wounds never hurt. "Come on, let's just get back to-"

The explosion of anger behind Harper's words were enough to make the speedster cringe. "He hurt you again, didn't he? That bastard! I'll kill him! I swear, I'll kill him! He hurt you, and now - I just don't get it! What the Hell did you do wrong to piss him off, huh? What would make him want to hit you? And why the fuck do you have goddamn stitches? I'll just kill him, hurting you... Bastard!" He roughly shoved Wally into the wall before moving to find his bow. Whatever evidence of Red Arrow was left behind, he didn't care. If that man killed Wally, Roy wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Killing him now was easier, make sure West wouldn't get hurt ever again.

After a few moments of shaking fear and the initial shock of such an outburst, Wally managed to collect his thoughts. He felt his face and his chest for new wounds, a response that he'd grown all too accustomed too. And he was already watching Roy pull his bow and a quiver out from behind some closet panels near the apartment's front door. "Roy..."

Through the blinding red rage, Harper couldn't hear him. He knew his costume was just behind another panel but getting it out would take too much time; the arrow would give away his connection anywa-

"Roy!"

He turned in one swift movement and saw the little boy, the one he loved so dearly, crumpled on the floor, eyes terrified and helpless, with one hand reaching out for the archer. "Roy, please, don't, I'm begging you..." His face was twisted into something fearful, and his stunning jade orbs glistened with cold, heartbroken tears. "He's... He's still my dad..."

The bow and quiver both clattered to the floor, and the elder moved towards the fragile child, kneeling on the floor, grabbing his shaking body, and pulling Wally close so that their pounding hearts could beat nearer to each other.

"Don't hurt him, Roy."

"I won't."

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: After about twenty minutes of battling my iTouch, I remembered I had a secondary posting place. Sadly, it's heavily monitored. Then my iTouch started working. Yay.**

**Now this chapter is… _definitely_ rated T. Wake up, smell the roses, see the rating, if you're not a teen, back away, if you are, keep on readin'.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.  
><strong>**Warning: RATED T. And no, it's not going up to M.**

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

Loyalty was one of Wally's best qualities. No one could ever argue with that.

He found the apartment door locked one day. It wasn't terribly unusual, it just meant that Roy wasn't home. But it was noon, Roy still didn't have a job, didn't go to college, and usually say around watching Law & Order at noon, his daily fix alongside of a few beers and a couple of cigarettes.

The speedster figured knocking was less important that most other things, but he had to respect Roy in some aspects, especially since they had hit rocky ground in the past few days with money issues; Wally had been chipping in bits of his food allowance to help feed and house Harper, but it wasn't enough to keep things square and they'd had to go to Queen for some extra money. From the expression on Roy's face when he returned to the apartment, it hadn't gone over well.

The lock was picked in a few minutes, and all Wally heard was the sound of cartoons bellowing out sound effects and bad seventies music, probably Scooby-Doo reruns that Harper sometimes left on just to keep the silence from being so damn deafening.

For a second, he thought he heard Roy too but he was distant to Wally's untrained ears. Running didn't take much patience or listening compared to the high-strung, paranoid life-style of human vigilantes. If he had Robin's abilities, he would've been able to pinpoint Roy's exactly location and give his heart rate and about twenty other things just by listening carefully.

On soft feet, he padded towards the bedroom, quiet as a mouse. He looked at the closed door for a moment and listened. Wally knew for a fact that Roy didn't sleep with his door closed; it was another paranoia thing. The freckled boy was glad he wasn't in on that side of heroism.

Sounds emerged from inside the room. Roy's voice, soft and inaudible. And another, quieter and entirely unreadable.

He pushed the door open.

Inside was Roy over a dark-haired woman with a face Wally only recognized from Justice League files. And they were naked. And covered in sweat. West was no fool.

"Roy?"

A shiver ran through his hot body as his blue eyes flickered over his shoulder, zeroing in on the source. "Shit, Wally, it's not what-"

Submissively, numbly, Wally cut in, "I know."

Harper gulped and looked to the beautiful woman under him before nodding to the pile of clothes they'd tossed to one side. He groped for his boxers at the least while she hid her bare body with the blankets. He managed to slide them on while hopping over to Wally where he still lingered in the doorway like a lost soul. "Listen, Wally, it looks bad, but I can explain."

"I know." His voice was dull, lifeless. The hurt was still raw, but he knew he could cut through the pain well enough. He was used to it. All the names. All the abuse. He adapted just fine to everything else. How was this any different?

He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder as Jade pulled on her clothes. Then his deep blue eyes fell back on Wally. "You know I want _you_, but every time you draw the line for me, I go a little bit insane." His voice was begging, pleading, desperate for the love he knew only Wally would offer. "You push me away to keep us safe from each other, I get it." He swallowed hard and reached for the speedster's hand, his whole body shaking, terrified of rejection; Roy didn't want to be alone. That was his biggest fear in life. "She's just a reprieve from all the pent up... _us_."

"I know." His gaze was distant, glassy. The slit in his heart was only growing.

But he kept going. "I don't want anyone but _you_, don't forget that. I want _you_, Wally." He leaned down a little bit, his hand cupping his lover's chin in his hand, his usually stony features growing soft. "It's always going to be you, I promise."

He couldn't stop himself; he sniffled. "You could've at least told me..."

"Oh God..." Roy didn't bother with forgiveness. He knew the damn kid couldn't hold a grudge to save his soul. The archer just grabbed Wally and pulled him tight to his chest, hands up in the kid's hair and his lips all over his neck and forehead and lips... He screwed up. He made Wally cry. It was the ultimate Hell he would be sent to, one where the kid would cry and there was no way to make it better. Just like the situation with his damned dad... "I won't do it again, I promise," murmured the elder redhead as he began to whisper reassurances into his lover's ear. "I won't hurt you anymore, I swear."

He just knew he was crying, that Roy was holding him and kissing him, and that Cheshire was gone, a memory in the wind. That was all Wally needed. The archer could've been cheating on him the whole time, but all the speedster could see was love, something raw and true. "Roy..."

He pulled himself away from the younger for a moment to look worriedly into the child's pure jade orbs that threatened more tears.

He swallowed hard, not thinking of his words before they came out. He just knew he needed to keep Roy with him, forever and always. Harper wasn't getting away that easily as long as Wally had anything to say about it. "If you wanted me that badly," he said, words a bit shy as he reached a quaking hand out to finger the waistband of Roy's boxers, "you could've just asked."

It didn't take more than a minute for the archer to be all over the boy; he needed this love, this drug, more than anything else in the world. He needed Wally.

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><p><strong>AN: Warned you, didn't I? So review? Thanks. Sorry for the delay.**

**~Sky**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Been on a romance rampage lately. If I had it my way, I'd have this story done in… three more chapters? And that's how it looks like it'll go at this point.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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><p>The guilt ate him away.<p>

It started with one cigarette.

He left the window wide open, winter winds whipping in and taking icy stabs at his naked skin. He'd left his shirt behind long ago, giving up after getting out of bed. He'd just screwed a minor.

As if he wasn't going to Hell already…

He let the smoke twirl off the end of the little white cigarette and tasted the tobacco on his tongue. It was all so twisted, so warped. He ran one hand through his hair and swallowed hard. He was going to Hell. Roy bit his lip and tried to fight how badly he was hurting.

He'd just had sex with Wally. A sick seed lay in the pit of his stomach, guilt, ache, sickness. He'd just made love to Wally West.

Oh Lord…

Roy drank in another breath of the warm smoke. It tasted so acrid yet so delicious. It all still tasted so sick. Just all of it. And he picked up another cigarette, dropping the butt of the first one out the window, watching it slap the wet streets from the night's rain. A flame from the lighter bit at it until the end caught and turned orange from the spark.

He was so sick. He was so, so sick. There was something seriously wrong with him. He'd just screwed Wally. He'd just fucked a fifteen-year-old. He knew he had a problem. And he sucked in more smoke, wishing it would just sting and burn his lungs until he couldn't breathe.

The cigarette sat between his fingers, waiting to go back to his lips.

Roy doubled over, a hand going through his hair again. He felt so _sick_.

He put the cigarette back in his mouth. The burning was so _disgusting_. The smoke tasted _awful_. The whole situation was so _sick…_

Then he went to the fridge to find the booze.

And it wasn't just because he'd slept with Wally. He'd wanted Wally for a while now and he'd felt so dirty just thinking about it, but hearing the kid moan and whimper under him-

It wasn't just about sleeping with Wally. The kid was asleep in the other room, so dazed and tired that he'd crashed about ten minutes after the whole ordeal. It wasn't just about Wally being the victim of the archer's lust and need.

West had seen him with Jade.

His throat burned as he threw back the first glass. Fire in his throat mixed in with the smoke in his lungs and the sink of sweat that clung to his body. The burn only made it more painful, made his stomach churn with repulsion. He thought he could die right there just of the shame.

This whole time, his head had been up his ass. He'd been clingy, keeping a deathgrip on Wally because he was so afraid the kid would leave him. The whole reason he'd gotten the speedster so close to him in the first place was because he needed love and he needed attention and he needed _someone_. But he'd betrayed him for a woman, an assassin no less.

He betrayed Wally.

Roy downed another drink, the taste like poison on his tongue.

The whole thing was just so _toxic_.

Wally trusted him. Wally respected him. Hell, Wally _loved _him. And all Roy could do was dream about how he would squeal and squirm and how good it would be to hear the speedster moaning his name.

Another shot burned down the back of his throat. He tossed the butt of the second cigarette out the window, wanting to retch out all his innards. He'd _contaminated_ Wally. He used to be so damn _innocent_.

The archer looked at the tv where it raged with the sound of old reruns of the same damn thing. It muffled the noises in the bedroom. It was such an old strategy. He watched people move across the screen and saw the lives of nonexistent people move on, untouched, unscathed-

The glass shattered the screen in a heartbeat, Roy's heart pounding in his chest. The air felt too thick, the silence too deafening. He felt the ache in his stomach resume, the sickening guilt of knowing he'd just screwed Wally after the damn kid had walked in on him with a goddamn Shadows assassin.

But what he had with Jade wasn't love. None of that was love. All of her was just physical. What he'd done with Wally had gotten physical-

And he went to the heroin.

Roy had given up on the booze; it wasn't enough to take away the raw agony that was ebbing away at his mind. The cigarettes only fed the addiction, only spurred on the chaos in his head.

The heroin… The heroin made him feel _better._

There was a board next to the one in the closet where he kept his bow and sheltered his arrows out of the public eye. He pulled open the closet and pulled the board off the wall, letting it clatter against the floor outside. And the little bags of the drug were calling his name. He could hear it through all the raging and pounding in his head, through the roaring of blood in his ears; he heard the drugs calling his name.

_Roy…_

_Roy…_

They sounded just like Wally.

It was eating him alive, consuming him from the inside out, taking his heart then mind-

The syringe was ready in a matter of minutes.

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><p>He blinked one jade eye open, then the next. And Wally found that he felt… exposed.<p>

The memories came back in a flood. Roy's arms around him, Roy's warm body, Roy, Roy, Roy, oh, just Roy…

One hand reached over to search for the warm body that he figured would be lying beside him; they always curled up together. Roy's arms fit perfectly around Wally's torso, they even laughed about it sometimes when they were really drunk, saying Wally was more like a doll than a lover.

The bed was empty.

"Roy?"

He bolted upright. The whole apartment was silent, dead silent. And that was never a good thing.

There was a reason some of Wally's spare cash went to the power bill and that was because Roy abused the tv, leaving it on day and night just to keep some sense of humanity in the house, to know that he wasn't alone. It was one of the reasons Wally enjoyed coming over, just to keep the archer company other than to get covered in kisses before departing.

"Roy?"

In an awkward bend, he reached over and grabbed his briefs off the floor before getting up; the floor felt cold under his bare feet. And the whole place felt so… alone.

His head spinning with the sheer quiet and the lack of his boyfriend, he moved towards the door, pushing it open slightly until he could see Harper lying on the floor, unmoving.

"Roy?" Wally's voice was quivering, shaking with fear as he took soft steps towards the archer. "Roy, why are you- why are you on the floor?"

That was when he saw the syringe.

Even superspeed felt slow as he ran to the phone to call Dick. Bruce had the resources to help and keep it quiet. Wally was still hovering over Roy's body, his fingers ghosting over his chest for a short moment. "God, Roy, please be okay." His words shook as his whole body shivered with horror. "Just don't be dead…"

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><p><strong>AN: This was the fun chapter. Review?**

**~Sky**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Not as happy about this chapter as I could be, but I was dreading this one. Thrilled about the next one, especially your reactions to it since it's the final.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

Hovering over Roy's bedside was not how Wally expected to spend the next week.

Apparently, he'd overdosed on heroin. Bad. But he had only collapsed because of the initial shock to his system and gone unconscious after falling and hitting his head on a table causing a slight concussion. Already, they knew he was strong enough to make a full recovery and Queen had already offered to pay for rehab and for all the debt his ward had racked up just paying for the drugs. And rumor had it he'd be back on his feet in a month and fully able to go back to Red Arrow in two as long as he went to therapy without arguing.

The only thing that Wally could think of was why Roy would do it, why he would shoot himself up with something he knew could kill him. What was the point? Was he trying to die? Was he trying to escape something? The worst scenarios ran through his mind: Roy didn't love him anymore and needed the easiest escape, or Roy couldn't confront the League about what all was going on between him and Cheshire and then the relationship with Wally... Chaos reigned his mind.

Then there was the hardest question to answer, especially when it was Barry doing the asking.

"What were you doing at Roy's apartment?"

Watching bad movies. Eating pizza. Drinking. Smoking. Having sex. Wally nearly broke down having to explain it all; he was guilty of everything. He wasn't a victim, he was a pawn. His emotions were all in his head, his mind and heart too intertwined to separate.

Roy had asked him to drink it up, and out of love, Wally had. Because there was potential. And that potential grew. Roy offered a cigarette, which the speedster refused. Until it came down to repairing a breach in the dam. Wally took the lighter and drank in the smoke. He needed to keep Roy with him. The sex was just one more notch, one more blow, the sick, twisted truth-

But he didn't tell them about that. He left it at smoking and drinking, no strings attached, no love in the picture.

Because Roy didn't need to go to prison.

But Wally told the League about what they'd been doing, buying booze with fake IDs, puffing cigarettes 'til they were blue in the face. And the Justice League agreed to send them both to rehab and therapy for their problems. Roy was easily an alcoholic, and Wally knew he was smoker now, sometimes twitching when he couldn't get outside to light one.

The worst part was that, standing alongside of Batman, just in the Dark Knight's shadow, stood Dick Grayson, stare degrading and disapproving. He'd put together the pieces that the League hadn't and read between the lines of Roy and Wally's story.

They were together. And he knew.

But that was a personal problem, not League business. Everyone knew Wally was gay, so it was only a matter of time until he blabbed about Roy and the archer would have to come out of the closet... That was, if Roy was in it for the right reasons...

The ginger couldn't tell the League for the same reason he couldn't say anything about the sex. The legality of it would put Roy behind bars. And he didn't deserve time in the big house; he just needed to wake up.

A week after overdosing on enough heroin to kill a small cow, he opened his eyes.

The first thing Roy saw when he opened his eyes was Wally curled up in a chair at the side of his bed, head cocked to one side, eyes closed, mouth ajar and dribbling drool, and the kid's hand on top of his own.

Time had passed. Nothing had changed. Wally was still his whether the Justice League liked it or not. He had the kid wrapped around his finger tight enough that West would bend to his every will. It was a sick, sick thought, but he knew it. Wally would do anything for him.

_Anything._

The archer looked to his arm and saw the IV. He searched briefly for any posted guards or Leaguers. No one. And he rolled over slightly, his body stiff, and gave the freckled boy's hand a quick squeeze. "Wally," came his hoarse whisper.

Jade eyes blinking open, heartbeat already spiking, he took in his fellow redhead with a broad, relieved grin before leaning over towards Harper. "I'm so glad you're alive," he breathed, voice shaking and desperate. "I woke up and you were just laying there-"

Roy hushed him with a soft glance and a ghost of a smile. "Relax." He squeezed his hand again, relaxed for the first time in a long time, no drugs in his system, no smoke on his tongue, no alchohol in his blood. "I'm not going anywhere soon, Wally. I'm here for you." Because, when it started out, West was the only one there for him.

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><p><strong>AN: I like it, but I don't totally love it. But I do want your feedback 'cause the next chapter is the last one. And I wanna see if I'm good enough to try another Roy/Wally story. I got an idea, just wanna know if you guys would read it…**

**Review?**

**~Sky**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: The final chapter. And I'm really reconsidering doing the other story, so unless I get a lot of feedback on this overall fic, I'm probably going to back down and go to one-shots for these guys.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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><p><em><span>Toxic<span>_

Harper was out of the hospital three weeks later; they had to keep him so he'd stay away from the drugs, but they also wanted him under constant surveillance, making it nearly impossible for Wally to really talk with Roy. About what happened.

Instead of knocking, he just pushed the door open, perfectly aware that Roy was home. He saw the archer sitting on the couch with some chips in a bowl on his lap to replace his usual brandy and cigarette combination. "Hey," came the speedster's voice. There was no denying it: Wally was immensely glad he could finally get to talk to Roy one-on-one so they could clear up exactly what happened. Every time before, Harper had never gone to drugs, but after one time, he was running back to his little bag of heroin.

Blue eyes trailing from the tv to the ginger in the doorway, Roy's usually stony face went soft as putty. "Hey yourself."

He cut to the chase. "Why did you do it?" Wally took one step inside, kicking the door shut softly behind him. "Was it me? Did I do something wrong?" His eyebrows knit in terrified confusion. "I love you, Roy, but if I did something wrong that made you want to kill yourself-"

"Oh God no, Wally-" The bowl of chips was scattered on the floor in a heartbeat as Roy stood up and began to rush to Wally as soon as the tears were bubbling in the younger redhead's eyes. "No, it wasn't about you, I swear." He was still lying. After scaring the kid half to death, putting him through the pain of not knowing, and turning him into an alcoholic and a smoker, Roy still had the gall to lie to him? "It was my fault. I felt guilty, and it hurt, so I tried to drink it away and I smoked one, but it didn't work." He averted his guilty azure gaze from the child. "The heroin worked."

"And nearly killed you." His lower lip was quivering. Quivering. As Kid Flash, he'd seen at least fifty things worse than this situation in his life, but nearly losing Roy had been so traumatic...

"But I'm fine now," he urged. Roy put his hands on Wally's shoulders, his countenance begging for forgiveness even though his words attempted to soothe. "We're getting help now. Therapy, rehab, it'll all be better. We'll be able to be together without being drunk or smelling like smoke."

His stomach twisted up in knots. He liked the smoke clinging to the archer's skin, and he sure as Hell loved the taste of brandy on his breath. Now they were both getting help... Wally's tears threatened to fall. "But I don't want to get better."

This was what he'd turned the boy into. Alcoholic. A smoker. Could've even been a stoner if Roy hadn't nearly OD'd on the shit. They were almost lucky the whole ordeal happened or else Wally could've OD'd just the same. Except maybe he wouldn't have gotten so lucky.

"Wally," whispered Roy, brushing away his lover's tears, "I don't know what I'd do with myself if that had been you on the floor because of too much booze or cardiac arrest or something." It almost felt like his chest was caving in, like the walls were crumbling around him. He didn't want to envision Wally's broken body on the floor, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, no heartbeat inside his chest, just a cold, lifeless body... "It's better this way."

But now it wasn't just Roy running away from his problems. The drinking had sprouted from a fight with Ollie over the partnership; it had become his solace. It filtered out the bad so all he knew was a blurry world of gray.

The smoking was just another step in the rebellion. He knew it was wrong too, but the self-mutilation it allowed was enough for his protest against himself and the world to begin.

Heroin was another rung on the ladder by the time he got to it; a hit shook off the worst of the day, and a good dose left him bleary-eyed and confused for a while, making him feel even better.

And it was life.

Wally had just begun to run away from his problems.

The drinking made the ache of the new bruises and welts go away. It made everything a numb symptom, but it took too long to get there. He consumed more booze than Roy just to get a decent buzz going. It was hard to forget all the pain.

The smoking was a way to remember what he was doing was wrong, that he could live with it. Watching the smoke twirl off the end gave him time to think about what he was doing, and he was sure that he wanted all of this.

Heroin. If he'd gotten into it... _Everything _would've gone away. Wally could only figure he would be living in complete euphoria, no pain, no hurt, no emotions. Just a high that he could never come off of.

And maybe that was what dying would be like.

"No it's not." Without waiting for invitation, he buried his freckled face in Roy's warm, broad chest. The washboard abs made the ache in his stomach even deeper. "It's not better this way."

Roy kissed the younger's halo of ginger hair and pulled him in close, feeling his thumping heartbeat against his abdomen. He felt the child shivering in his grasp and could only think of one way to settle him down.

Wally felt the archer push him away for a moment and watched with misty eyes as Roy leaned down just enough so their lips would meet.

Between Wally's wanting and the force of Roy's lips, they could've gone on for hours. The speedster's hand ran up along Roy's finely chiseled abs, tears still streaking down his dappled cheeks. And Roy ran his calloused fingers though the choppy, fluffy hair of Kid Flash and held him tight like he would disappear at any second.

After a few long moments, those same calloused fingers roamed elsewhere, running themselves under his shirt and up and down his back until they found a scar. A fresh scar. A circular scar. A bullet wound, healed over and sealed with scar tissue.

And the sobs shook the child's entire body until Roy stole his voice in his own lips to try and kiss away the pain, his hands running along Wally's pale, beautiful skin just to settle him down. He had to stop crying; Roy felt so guilty when the damn kid cried.

It took about an hour of kissing and whispering reassurances to get the speedster on a calmer level where he could breathe regularly and didn't desperately cling to the archer.

"Wally," Roy whispered after coaxing the boy to the couch, "I'll take care of him if you let me."

"No." His response was firm and definite. Wally's eyes were stony and unwavering. "You can't."

If getting rid of the problem wasn't an option, forgetting the problem was. Reluctantly, Roy let himself fall back into old habits, his voice going low and rough. "I'll get the booze if you get the cigarettes."

Wally's only response was a sick, sad smile.

Their love was a poison, if you could call it that; it was undoubtedly toxic.

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><p><strong>AN: I loved this whole journey. I finally found my YJ OTP. And thanks to you, I now know there are a lot more shippers out there than I originally thought. Thanks for all the support. And as always: review?**

**~Sky**


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